


lover to lover

by rosehale



Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Morning Sex, i love writing morning sex what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 03:24:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16054478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosehale/pseuds/rosehale
Summary: You wake up to Noah, serene in the sunlight.





	lover to lover

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Florence + The Machine's song of the same name. 
> 
> Enjoy, lovers. x

Soft, brown curls between fingertips. Noah is pressing lazy kisses along the line of your stomach, warm lips against the cold of the morning. The sunlight is coming in slits through the curtains, illuminating the bed in a lazy golden colour that turns everything serene and slow. 

You’d woken to the feel of a body moving against yours, the solid thigh between your legs trying to discreetly slip away, the hand aligned to your spine withdrawing. Blinking open bleary eyes you found Noah, cringing as he watched you wake. 

“Sorry,” he’d murmured, as the arm under your head began to wriggle, “My arm’s gone to sleep.” 

“S’okay,” you’d slurred, eyes already closing again as you lost Noah’s body and the warmth that came with it. Drifting in and out of sleep for the next few minutes, listening to him settle, scrolling through his phone, before he’d disturbed you from your doze, the heavy weight of him across your body as he kissed the dip between your collarbones, big hands rucking up your tank top to kiss the base of your sternum, down to where you now find him, fingers tangled in his hair, the drag of soft lips against your navel. 

“What you doing,” you wonder, still half asleep, body adrift in the nest of pillows and blankets and the warm weight of him moving down your body. 

“Nothing,” Noah teases against the bone of your hip, the vibration rumble of his voice on your skin. You laugh, thumb brushing the tip of his ear, the line of his jaw. He’s close to the hem of your underwear now, and you can feel the press of his smile against your belly. 

“This doesn’t feel like nothing,” you say, as his hands curl into your underwear, stretching the material as he brings it down your thighs. 

“Really?” Noah looks up, smirking, eyebrow crooked. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, his face gentle, hair rumpled from your hands. Something warm and soft breaks in your heat to seep through your chest, just at the sight of him. He’s disappearing under the covers now, gets up on his hands and knees so he can throw them off, and they slide to the floor with a muffled thump. He’s wearing grey sweatpants, low on his hips, kneels back as he rids you of your underwear, lifts one foot, then the other, so they can join the covers. Your tank top is still pushed up your abdomen from his wandering hands, and you’re propped up on one elbow, bottom lip between teeth as you watch, curious to see what he’ll do next, how he’s going to play this. Big hands slide up your legs, rough palms. Half of him is in the sun, so it pulls out the blonde in his hair, lays gentle across his skin, turns him bronze. He’s smiling, like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

“Noah,” you say, just to speak his name, just to feel the familiar syllables on your tongue. And Noah beams, leans down low over you to kiss you properly, for the first time of the morning. It’s lazy and languid and he’s warm from the sunshine, from sleep. The hard press of his chest against yours. The hushed sounds he makes against your mouth. Your fingers scratch bluntly across his back, feeling the muscle there pull and release. His big hands hold your ribcage, the spread of fingers across hidden bone. 

It’s as if it almost hurts him to leave your mouth, a last gentle nip on your bottom lip before he returns to his place between your legs, all glittering eyes as he bends your knees, your feet flat on the mattress, his palms on the soft skin of your thighs to pull you apart. The look on his face, peaceful, anticipation, like he’s right where he’s supposed to be. The warmth of his breath, a last smile, and then the press of his tongue. Your brain, still waking, still adjusting, short circuits for a second. Noah’s so good at this. So good it makes your head spin. He makes soft, wanting sounds against you, hands holding your hips to the bed. Your fingers entwine into his hair, too tight but too gone to recognise it. You can still taste him, smell him, feel the weight of him over you as you woke. Noah’s tongue and gentle teeth, the rub of his thumb across the knot of nerves. It doesn’t take long. 

“Noah,” you groan, thick with want. It pulls in your belly, flooding heat. He lifts his head, and you think you’re going to die if he stops, but it’s only to grin, mouth slick, before he returns, almost with a new enthusiasm. You come, all bitten whines, thighs tight around his ears, fingers pulling at his hair. For a few unsteady heartbeats, there’s nothing but glowing white and the feel of Noah’s hands on your hips. 

He’s silly, now he’s got you all pliant and loving and languid, kissing each kneecap, the bone of each shin, and then back up your torso, pushing his head under your tank top to kiss your breasts before helping your limp body peel out of it. He holds your face in his hands, kisses the tip of your nose. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, because what else is there to say? He laughs, warm and lovely. A slow kiss that lingers. 

“You’re welcome.” 

You can feel him against your belly, hot and wanting, still in his sweatpants, and you shift to wrap your legs around his waist, moving your bodies so hips meet. 

“You’re killing me,” he says into the crook of your neck, unconscious little rocks of his body against you. Your fingers in the waistband of his sweats, he’s not wearing underwear (of course he’s not), and you find hot skin, feel curly hair around your knuckles. Noah groans, still hidden in your shoulder. It’s delirious, almost, to have him like this, being able to make him feel good. You find silky heat, and he twitches into your hand, teeth scraping over your collarbone. You press your face into his hair, breathing in the smell of him, one of his hands heavy on your breast as he mumbles into your neck, your fingers around him, shifting, sliding. He makes a soft, cut off sound, and then his hand is around your wrist, halting your movements. 

“Fucking hell,” he’s breathless, panting, cheeks flushed, “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.” 

He presses a messy kiss to your throat as you laugh, overjoyed, in bliss. The sunshine is warm across you, almost a blessing, and you have Noah all wanting and needy in your lap. 

“That’s okay,” you say, because, really it is, the day is still early, there’s plenty of time to fall into bed later, but Noah rises up on one arm, shaking his head. His pupils are blown. 

“Wanna be inside you,” he says, all rough rasp. You feel his words right deep at the base of your spine. You can’t do anything but nod, clumsy hands helping him out of his sweatpants until it’s skin on skin, nothing but the quick breathing, the thundering heartbeats. You watch the stretch and pull of Noah’s body as he fumbles in the bedside table draw for a condom, sitting back on his heels to roll it onto himself, your shaking fingers across his. He aligns himself, leans low, an endearing kiss to the side of your face before he slides home. Noah sighs, eyes fluttering closed. It’s always hard to pick a favourite part, when you’re close to Noah like this, but this bit is always so good, when you finally find each other, become part of one whole. You curse, quietly, and it feels almost wrong, to blasphemy in a moment this precious. You settle together, and you can almost feel his heartbeat against yours. 

“Yeah?” Noah asks, and you nod, push the hair out of his face for him. He doesn’t need to ask, you’ve been ready since that first kiss, but you loves that he does. Noah withdraws, returns, finds his rhythm. You think you’re going to die, every time, it’s that good. And the way Noah moans and shivers makes you think he feels the same way. Rumpled sheets, tasting the sunshine on his skin. You’re wrapped up in him, your legs around his waist, one hand in his hair, the other draped across his spine. You love the way Noah’s voice goes rough, goes wanting. The way he says your name. 

“Please,” you breathe, neck arched back. Noah’s pattern becomes unsteady, his hand where your bodies meet. His mouth finds yours, messy and lovely. You part your lips to say his name, but you’re already gone, the shivering grasp of orgasm. Noah’s not long to follow, your face in one of his hands, his pink mouth, his dark eyes. A low groan and a shudder right through him, warmth within you. He pants against your cheek, a mumble of your name. Your fingers stroke down the line of his spine, bumping over each vertebrae as he remembers how to breathe. He slumps against you, boneless. Maybe this is the best part, when he’s this relaxed, trusting you to have him at his most vulnerable. 

You hear the birds outside for the first time, although of course they’ve been there all along. You turn your face to see the trees move in the breeze through the window. Noah relieves you of his weight, nuzzling into your side. You know he’ll be asleep in minutes. Your fingers stroke through the mess of his hair. He leaves you with a kiss on your shoulder before he drifts away, one long leg slung over yours. You’ll have to get up soon, at least to pull the covers over your bodies from the floor, but for now you can lie still, and listen to Noah breathe.


End file.
